Leo Valdez, Truant Supreme
by shiiki
Summary: Leo gets picked up in New Mexico, right before being sent to the Wilderness School.


**A/N:** So, extra Easter present for you guys. I need a break from trying to figure out moderated mediation models (don't you just love stats?) and I'm hitting a wall writing new content, so I thought I'd fix up an old one instead. Here's a story written last year for my CoL beta, **supernaturally-percyjackson** , because Leo's her favourite character. And I have to admit, writing him just makes me love him, too. My BoO audiobook reached the part where he blasted Gaia into bits and died in the process (and he hasn't come back to life yet) so I think some Leo love is warranted today.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Leo Valdez, Truant Supreme

The truant officer looked like a robot.

Leo amused himself for a while imagining that she actually was one. Maybe the state of New Mexico actually had machines out to catch recalcitrant kids instead of employing adults to do it. If he ever intended to build a delinquent-catcher, he'd probably design it something like this lady. She was all right angles and square features, with iron curls so tight they looked like a glued-on wig and the slightest hint of a moustache that made Leo think of a patch of rust above her upper lip.

Even her movements were stiff and jerky as she manhandled him into the police building. The way she moved now, it seemed impossible that she could have caught Leo. He wondered if she had wheels hidden under those chunky boots she wore.

 _Jesu christo_. He never should have been out in the morning. It wasn't usual for him—one of the perks of being on the run was getting to sleep in as much as he liked. Besides, he'd learned two years and five foster homes ago that between the hours of nine and four, people got suspicious when a teenager _wasn't_ holed up in prison. Oh, sorry, he meant schools. Or maybe not. As far as Leo was concerned, there wasn't much of a difference between a school and a juvie lock-up.

Anyway, he wouldn't have budged from his latest hide-out under the bleachers at the stadium on Avenida Cesar Chavez, if it hadn't been for the rogue baseball.

It had flown out of nowhere through the gap in the stands, smashing his makeshift TV box to smithereens (right when he'd gotten it to pick up the satellite signal to broadcast _Lost_ reruns, too). When Leo had reached to pick it up, it had rolled away from him of its own accord. Then legs—seriously, no joke, spindly little limbs like spider legs—had popped out of its sides and it had scuttled away. Alarmed but also intrigued, he'd followed it out of the stadium. He couldn't explain why it had felt so important that he catch it. Maybe it was just that it was the weirdest little machine Leo had ever seen, and Leo was a sucker for cool toys.

He'd chased it all the way downtown to a massive statue of a hammer and anvil. The spider-ball hopped between the giant stone tools as if positioning itself to be pounded. It had glowed like red-hot metal in a forge, lighting up the letter 'H' between the baseball grooves.

And then it had burst into flames. Leo had been so stunned by that (and he'd wondered uneasily if _he'd_ done it somehow), he hadn't noticed the officer yelling at him until it was too late.

So here he was now, in a police precinct, probably about to be sent to his sixth—or was it seventh? He'd lost count after Houston—foster home in six years. He sighed and leaned back, then jerked upright again to avoid falling off the narrow bench. It was nailed to the ground a food away from the wall, probably just so people _couldn't_ rest their backs.

'Officer' was just another term for _asshole_ , in Leo's opinion.

This particular asshole was currently looking something up on a boxy computer. She clicked the mouse and a printer churned to life several feet away from Leo, making him jump. He couldn't read most of the tiny writing on it, but he recognised his own name at the top of the page: _LEONIDAS VALDEZ, AGE: 15._

Leo groaned. He'd never actually read what was in his juvie record, but he could guess. A long list of the six or seven foster homes he'd run away from. His spotty school records. The psych evaluations his first school had put him through, before he started playing his chronic game of cat-and-mouse with social services.

The mysterious circumstances of Esperanza Valdez's death.

 _Stop._

No, Leo didn't want to think about that.

'Hey, ma'am,' he called to the truant robot. Lady, whatever.

'Officer,' she corrected him.

Figures, she'd be one of those stick-in-the-mud types. Leo fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he plastered his most winning smile on his face. It worked with most ladies, especially the kindly old librarians he tried to scam hot drinks and cookies off—at least on first meeting, before they read the 'compulsive liar' line on his record.

Where he'd picked that one up, he wasn't sure. He didn't lie, not really.

Well, okay, there was that time with the crazy bronze bulls that had blown up a gas station. He'd ended up pretending he'd only stolen a car and accidentally ran it into the gas pumps—better to get done for grand theft auto than an arson charge. And who would have believed the truth anyway?

'Yeah, um, officer. Look, it's probably easier to just give me a smack on the bum and let me outta here, right? Less paperwork. I mean, do we really wanna add to that?' He waved at the print-out the lady was now scanning through. 'Kills less trees, you know?'

'Can it, pipsqueak.'

Leo made his voice as persuasive as he knew how. 'You pretend you never saw me, I'll pretend I never saw you. Win-win, right?'

'As a matter of fact, your fate's already been decided,' said the truant officer. 'We've had our eye on you for a while. The paperwork's just a formality. It's off to the Wilderness School with you. Maybe they can whip your delinquent ass into some sort of shape.' She looked like she doubted it, but didn't much care either way.

And why would she? Once she got Leo off her hands, he wouldn't be her problem any more. Out of sight, out of mind.

Just like Aunt Rosà, and every other foster family or social service worker he'd ever met.

Leo forced a smile onto his face again.

'The Wilderness School, huh? What, did I end up in the pound instead of the truant office? You do realise I'm not a stray dog?'

He didn't know why he was still joking about it. It was clear he wasn't getting anywhere with this hard-ass chick. But Leo had learned that the shitty stuff that happened to him was a lot easier to deal with when he smothered it in a layer of humour.

The truant officer didn't bother to reply. Tough crowd.

'What is it, then, like some sort of camp?'

'It's a school,' said the officer. Like, duh. 'One that specialises in dealing with cases like you.'

She made a stiff scrawl on the bottom of the page and rubber-stamped it in red ink. Then she took the papers and minced out of the room in that stick-up-her-butt way, locking the door behind her.

Leo's shoulders drooped. _The Wilderness School._ It sounded like some institution where they sent kids out into the woods as an entrance exam. _If you come back alive, congratulations! You get to join summer boot camp!_

 _Don't be stupid,_ he told himself. _You've been watching too much reality TV._

Either way, it'd be just another plot twist in the ongoing saga of _Leo Valdez: Professional Runaway_.

 _Nah_ , he thought, _too boring_. _Leo Prime: Truant Supreme!_

Yeah, that was better. Wilderness School, watch out. Leo Valdez was gonna kick its ass.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

 **A/N** : I'm probably going to put a plug for the forum in every fic, so bear with me. There's a PJO forum you can find in my profile, where I'm now putting stuff like scene extras and discussion topics and questions you awesome readers have brought up. So come say hi and poke around! :)

Little announcement on NoH—the chapter I'm working on for this weekend might be a little late because I'm travelling Thurs-Sun and may not have Internet access while I'm away. So if I don't managed to get one out before Thursday (which is highly unlikely given my neverending to-do list), it will probably only be Sunday before I can post.


End file.
